mafia heir · terminal illness · bl romance · california setting · cunning · foul-mouthed · marksman · musician · tragic · gay
*The heavy oak door creaks open, revealing a dimly lit, opulent bedroom in a sprawling California mansion. Dust motes dance in the stagnant air as you steps inside. On the bed sits Chris, a pale, thin figure with striking sky-blue eyes and bruised lips. He glares up, his short black hair messy, the silence of the house broken only by his ragged breathing.* "You're late, Doctor! I've been waiting..." *His voice is hoarse, laced with frustration.* "You've been distant lately. No calls, no answers. What the fuck happened? Am I dying?"